


To Dwell In My Disasters

by theweddingofthefoxes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Humiliation, M/M, Punishment, Spanking, descriptions of corporal punishment on kids, this is not fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8557057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/pseuds/theweddingofthefoxes
Summary: The only way Hux is going to get over his failure and move on is to be properly punished for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, everybody. This isn't terribly extreme, in my opinion, but neither is it my usual fluffy fare. 
> 
> A fill for this[ Kylux Hard Kinks prompt](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/153142611253/hux-hates-being-spanked-but-he-knows-he-needs-it).

Hux has always resented being punished. Except, of course, when he really deserves it. 

There was only one incident, when he was at the Academy, where he felt he really deserved it. He'd taken his anger at a hated classmate out on a different peer. This was not exactly a friend of his, and certainly wasn't his friend after this incident, but it had been someone who had bothered to see if he was all right after the kid he despised had knocked him over. Hux was still high on adrenaline, even from a lost fight, and immediately set about beating the shit out of this other kid simply because he knew he'd win at least one fight that day if he took him on. For no reason other than seeking an outlet, he went way, way too far. The other kid barely fought back, probably out of astonishment. 

Hux had been eleven or twelve years old. He'd been thwacked for that, so hard he cried, bitterly, raggedly, messily. He tries to think if he's cried any time between that punishment and the present day and comes up empty. But he really did deserve it, he thinks. Why hadn't he used that energy on the kid who actually hurt him? What had possessed him to do such a thing? Just about every time he was paddled or smacked or had his palms whipped or received any sort of corporal punishment, and there were many times, and it seemed as if every authority figure had a different method to ensure that he would hurt all over, he gritted his teeth and took it, wild-eyed and barely flinching. It wasn't fair, Hux knew it wasn't fair, and he would not give anyone the satisfaction of breaking under the lash. He would isolate his mind from the pain, become a rock, become an island. But in the case of the boy he needlessly pummeled, he felt almost as if there had been a covenant between himself and his punisher. It would scour his guilt away. He'd been properly punished and he could move on instead of stewing in it forever. And perhaps it gave the other boy some satisfaction too. Life went on.

Life, he thinks after he has accepted the loss of Starkiller, has to go on. He wants it to. He doesn't know if it will.

He'd planned everything so carefully and it hadn't been enough. Nowhere close to enough. He'd have to start back from square one. It might be years before he could catch back up to where he'd been. If anybody bothered to listen to him then. He allows himself to imagine the worst. Demotion. Exile. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

But. He had always been a planner, a plotter, a hard worker. He had clawed his way past every fucking setback, hadn't he? This he asks himself, looking in the mirror a few mornings after Everything Was Ruined, as he shaves with slow, even strokes. All he needed to do was get past the mental barrier of despair and the switch would be flipped. He would be able to move on and work with renewed vigor. He just needed...

To be punished. For his short-sightedness. For his hubris. For his stupidity. 

He wipes the last of the lather from his face and thinks.

There aren't a lot of options for this task. Who can he trust to do this right? His first choice is Phasma. She is not quite a friend because he has never really quite had a friend, but she is unfailingly loyal. Wouldn't ask questions. And she's certainly got the physical capability needed to make it really count. The problem is that he does not want to do a lot of explaining about why he needs this and what exactly he wants. The very thought of doing so exhausts him. He needs someone who will just get it--

He freezes.

He needs someone who can read his mind.

This shortens the list of candidates to a single name. Kylo Ren.

Would Ren do it? He imagines yes. Would Ren hold this over his head for the rest of forever? He imagines yes. But if it can get him back on track, if it can remove the boiling anxiety and guilt and shame from his body, if it can return him to making plans and focusing on the future and putting his failure behind him in a blaze a vengeful glory, well, it would be worth it. So what if Ren finds him pathetic? It's not as if Ren particularly idolized or feared him in the first place. 

He invites Ren for a talk in his office that very same day. 

"I know you are not the sort to give favors because they are asked," Hux begins without preamble, the moment the door shuts behind Ren, who hasn't even sat down yet. "But I think this is a task you're suited for. And one you won't mind doing."

Ren says nothing. He's wearing his mask, so Hux can't even tell if he's raising an eyebrow under there. Hux continues, hoping to entice Ren by reaching for his ego without sounding false. He does mean all this.

"To help me is to help the entire Order. You would be doing an enormous service to me, and by extension, to the cause you've devoted your life to. And I would be happy to pay or--to reward you however you saw fit."

He clenches his jaw as he feels Ren pawing through his mind. He imagines a pristine data pad with Ren's hand all over, his fingerprints smearing everything, except in his head. He forces himself to breathe. 

"General. You're right," Ren allows. They have been playing at diplomacy and it's strange. "I wouldn't mind. I would go so far as to say this task may be its own reward. You certainly don't have to pay me." He gives a single, sharp bark of laughter, distorted through the vocoder. "I don't wish to add prostitute to my list of accomplishments."

"None of that," Hux says, testy. "This isn't--"

"Regardless of whether or not you think it's sexual, you're propositioning me for a rather intimate task, one you're offering to pay me for. Or maybe it's my silence you want to buy. Either way, relax. Yes. I'll do it. When?"

They arrange to meet the next evening. Hux has given him permission to get whatever he needs out of his head. "I'm holding you to that," Ren said. "It'll be easier if you relax, at least at the beginning."

Hux nods. Whatever spares him from having to explain. 

"Do you have a safeword?"

"I told you, this isn't s--"

"I'm not saying this to make myself sound like a big deal, but General, I could break you in two if I wanted," Ren says sharply. "We both know this. I'm not interested in explaining to Snoke why your spine's in pieces. You need to be able to tell me if I've gone too far."

Hux thinks. He decides on illumination. It's just the first word that comes to mind. 

When Ren arrives the following evening, he removes his mask and spends a long time looking at Hux, who finds it unnerving at first, but understands the necessity. It takes a few minutes for Ren to catch up on the trembling breakneck chatter of Hux's thoughts, and to decide exactly how both of them want this done. Hux finds himself remembering, in stunning vividness, how his knees shook when he was summoned for his punishment after beating his classmate, before his knuckles even had a chance to stop bleeding. He will be at peace soon, he thinks, steely, hopeful, even as his stomach churns. He will.

"All right," Ren says. "Clear your desk of everything on it."

It sounds like he is a proctor about to give a test, which is not entirely inaccurate. Hux strides forward and removes everything from the desk, which isn't much, but Ren wants it bare so it will be bare. 

"All right," Ren says again. "Good. Go ahead and lean over it."

He does not sound as strict as Hux was expecting, but perhaps that will come later. These all sound like suggestions, like ideas for Hux to proceed with if he'd like. Does he want Ren to be meaner? He's not sure yet.

"All the way," Ren continues. "As far forward as you can go. Comfort is not the name of the game, is it?"

Perhaps he's heard Hux wondering if this is too nice.

"No," Hux says.

"I haven't told you yet that you'll need to address me as Commander if you're going to address me at all, so I won't hold that against you. You can have a do-over."

"No, Commander."

"Perfect. Excellent. Just right."

Hux hates how much the praise affects him. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the strain in his legs from leaning across the desk. He's waiting.

"Don't move," Ren warns.

Hux doesn't move, just tries to stay relaxed. When his thoughts come flooding up, he focuses on pushing them out into the air, broadcasting them to whatever frequency Ren is listening to. 

"Do you think it will hurt more clothed or bare?" Ren asks. "It's up to you."

"You choose," Hux croaks. "Commander."

He can practically sense Ren smirking at that. "You're good at this game. I think you'd feel more properly punished if--"

Ren doesn't even finish saying the thought, just goes ahead and reaches around Hux's narrow waist to loosen the button on his trousers, unhook his belt. "Did you pick this one out just for me?" Ren asks, sliding the belt free of Hux's hips with a soft rushing noise. 

He hadn't really considered that, but saying so will break the mood. "Yes, Commander." Why not.

"Good," Ren says. It takes a few moments for Ren to slide Hux's trousers down, since they're so carefully tailored. More easily go his boxers. "Excellent. Let's begin. You are aware that you're being punished?"

"Yes, Commander," Hux breathes. It's audible, so it's enough. 

"Are you aware of why?"

Hux hesitates enough to earn the first crack of the belt. It takes his breath away, and the pain is so clean and bright it almost feels better than it hurts. 

"Perhaps that was hasty of me," Ren decides aloud. "You've fucked up in so many directions that it must be hard to decide where to start that answer."

"Yes, Commander."

"You wasted countless hours on a project that you could not make succeed," Ren says. "In fact, it was a stunning failure." Hux blinks, realizing that Ren is cribbing some of his own thoughts to write whatever mental script he's following. Well, he hadn't wanted to explain, had he? He just wanted it done. Let Ren take what he wanted. The familiar shameful heat of this particular statement courses up his body, as though priming him for the blow that's about to come. Hux goes fully stiff when the belt makes contact again. "Everyone knows how badly you failed, General. Everyone."

Another blow. Hux bites the inside of his mouth, knowing the tears are coming already, and so soon. 

"You came to me because you know you deserve to be punished," Ren declares. "You came to me because you know you have managed to screw up the only thing you really thought you could use to prove yourself. You can't avoid that fact and that's why you need me. To make you really, really understand the magnitude of your own incompetence. Isn't it?"

"Yes, Commander."

"And once you understand it, you can do better." Another crack, a little lower now, across his upper thighs. Hux lets out a cry he's certain he's never made before in his life, not even during any boyhood thrashing. "But first I have to make you understand."

Another crack. The tears are starting to slip down Hux's face now. Already his entire skin feels coated in fire. Burning away the failure, leaving only the new, smarter, better version of himself. His face feels so hot that he thinks his tears might sizzle away.

"You have to understand that you didn't work hard enough to succeed. You have to understand that the Order was set back years because of your pride. Your pride deserves to be checked a bit, doesn't it? More than a bit?"

"Yes, Commander."

Ren answers with an even harder smack across his ass,and he could not stop the sob from howling its way out. Ren shoulders the belt, walks around to the other side of the desk so he is in front of Hux instead of behind.

"Look at me."

Hux forces his eyes upward without moving his head. Not enough for Ren, who tilts his chin up, so he can see how red Hux's face is, how many tears have fallen. When their eyes meet, Ren's fingers tighten upon Hux's chin. 

"Do you think your failure can be beaten out of you, General?"

"Yes, Commander," he rasps, unhesitating. 

"That's a lot of failure. That's a lot of beating."

Hux has not been asked a question, so he says nothing. His legs are shaking so hard that it requires every ounce of his strength to continue leaning across the desk. Ren stares down at him for a few beats more before returning to his original position, pausing to palm Hux's ass before wordlessly giving him another three smacks. By the third one, Hux is literally seeing stars, something he always thought was a figure of speech but no, here they are, gleaming at the edges of his blurred vision. A low, animal moan pours out of his mouth like saliva, and the tears only come harder. _Remove it! Take it all!_

Ren strikes again, and the fortitude Hux has been using to keep himself from crying, hard and steady, dissolves at last. It's gone. He sounds exactly like he did getting spanked for attacking that classmate, he sounds like an eleven-year-old. 

Ren pauses.

"You're bleeding," he says, and Hux isn't sure if this is inside or outside of the game they've been playing, and besides it's not a question, so he says nothing. He winces when Ren touches him softly, right where it hurts the worst. 

"We're finished," Ren goes on, crisp. "Up."

Hux tries to stand back up and nearly wobbles to the floor, but Ren has dropped the belt and is using both arms to steady Hux, whose head is spinning. "Come on," Ren says, not a command but an assurance. "I've got you. You're done. We're finished."

Hux feels as though he's swooning. He's sure it's psychological, there's no other explanation, but he feels light and safe and the anxiety is gone. He's still crying a little bit, sniffling shamelessly, but the blow has fallen and all is relief now. Even under the haze of the pain and uncertainty, he can hear the mechanism of his mind waking, the little flame brightening. Ren hears it too.

"See? You were right to come to me," he says softly. He's walked Hux back over to his bed by now, in order to lie him down and tend to him, a part of the bargain Hux only now remembers tends to come with these types of things but a part he simply didn't consider. Dimly he wonders if this is also, in Ren's own words, its own reward. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes," Hux says softly. "Commander."

Ren laughs. "You don't have to say that anymore."

"It's not untrue."

"It's not," Ren agrees. "I should have--I didn't think about this. Do you have bacta?"

"Yes. Refresher." It's hard for Hux to speak, both mentally and physically, with his face buried in the pillow the way it is. Ren finds it just fine. He applies it as gently as he can to Hux's ass and thighs, though Hux still jolts. When he's finished, Ren runs his nails gently along Hux's back.

"Let it go," Ren says. "It's gone now. It's over. You have a fresh start now, General. You will get your revenge."

The kindness stings worse than the bacta, and Hux's pillow is getting damp because the tears won't stop coming. 

"And it will be terrifying. You will destroy every enemy you've ever made," Ren goes on, rubbing his thumb along Hux's spine. "I promise you this. Not yet. But soon. You failed this time, but it will only make you better."

Hux says nothing, just takes a long shuddering breath. "It will be wondrous," Ren says, still softly rubbing Hux's back, and Hux sinks into the promise, imagining his next weapon, his next plan, how light and perfect and powerful he will feel when he does at last succeed. When he does, he will thank Ren in the way he truly deserves, however that might be, whenever that might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Can I still be your marshmallow? I wanted to try my hand at filling a hard kink prompt. This one really jumped out at me for whatever reason. But my soft heart does believe in happy endings. 
> 
> Title is borrowed from Ray LaMontagne's "Empty". 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at [theweddingofthefoxes](http://theweddingofthefoxes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
